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Dr. Lawrence P. Storm, as his nameplate read, was a short, stout man with a round face, the jowls of which dipped a half inch or so below his jawline. He had thick, rubbery lips and bulging dull brown eyes that reminded me of fish. Later, Daphne, who seemed to know everything about anyone in any position of importance, would tell me he suffered from a thyroid condition but she assured me he was the most impressive high school principal in the city with a doctorate in educational philosophy.

Dr. Storm wore his pale yellow hair brushed flat with a part in the center. He extended his puffy small hand and my father took it quickly.

"Monsieur Dumas and Madame Dumas," he said, nodding to Daphne. "You both look well."

"Thank you, Dr. Storm," my father said, but Daphne, who wasn't hiding her discomfort over having this duty, went right to business.

"We're here to register our daughter. I'm sure you know the details by now," she added.

Dr. Storm's bushy eyebrows rose like two caterpillars nudged.

"Yes, madame. Please, have a seat," he said, and we all sat down. Immediately, he began to shuffle papers. "I have had all the paperwork prepared in anticipation of your arrival. I understand your name is Ruby?" he said, looking at me for the first time.

"Yes, monsieur."

"Dr. Storm," Daphne corrected.

"Dr. Storm," I said. He held a tight smile.

"Well now, Ruby," he continued. "Let me welcome you to our school and say that I hope it will be a truly enjoyable and productive experience for you. I have managed to place you in all of your sister's classes so that she can help you catch up. We will make an attempt to get her transcripts from her previous school," he said, turning to my father, "and any information you can provide to expedite the matter will be appreciated, monsieur."

"Of course," my father said.

"You did attend school this year, did you not, Ruby?" Dr. Storm asked.

"Yes, Dr. Storm. I always attended school," I added pointedly.

"Very good," he said, and then clasped his thick hands together on the desk and leaned forward, his body gliding up into his suit jacket to fill out the shoulders. "But I expect you will find this educational experience somewhat different, my dear. To begin with, the Beauregard School is considered one of the best in the city, one of the most advanced. We have the finest teachers and we have the best results."

He smiled at my father and Daphne and continued.

"Needless to say, you have a rather unique situation here. Your notoriety, the events of your past, have, I am sure, preceded you. You will be the subject of a great deal of curiosity, gossip, etc. In short, you will be the center of attention for some time, which, unfortunately, will make your adjustment that much more difficult.

"But not impossible," he quickly added when he saw the panic written on my face. "I will be available to counsel you and aid you in any way possible. Just come by this office and ask for me whenever you like." His rubbery lips stretched and stretched until they were as thin as pencils and the corners were sharply drawn into his plump cheeks.

"This is your schedule," he said, handing me a sheet of paper. "I have asked one of our honor students, who happens to be in all of your classes, too, to guide you about today." He turned to my father and Daphne.

"It's one of the responsibilities of our honor students. I thought about asking Gisselle, but decided that might just bring more attention to the both of them. I hope you agree."

"Of course, Dr. Storm."

"You understand why we don't have the papers you would ordinarily need for a registration," Daphne said. "This situation has just fallen on us."

"Oh, certainly," Dr. Storm said. "Don't worry about it.I'll take whatever information you have and follow it up like a Sherlock Holmes until we have what we need."

He returned his gaze to me and sat back in his seat.

"Because you are unfamiliar with our rules and regulations and because you will find we do things differently here, imagine, I have had this pamphlet prepared for you," he said, and held up a packet of stapled papers. "It describes everything--our dress codes, behavior codes, grading systems, in short, what is and what is not expected of you.

"I'm sure," he continued, smiling widely again, "that with your home and your family, none of this will prove difficult for you. However," he added, turning firm, "we do have our standards to maintain and we will maintain them. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Dr. Storm," he corrected this time himself.

"Dr. Storm."

He smiled again.